The Last Temptation of Jason Todd
by Mizzykitty
Summary: A chance encounter with a stranger makes Jason feel things he would rather not, but is it merely lust, or is there something altogether more sinister going on?
1. Chapter 1

"Here you are, Father."

Jason smiled as he accepted his latte from the barista. "Thanks, Amy. How have you been?"

Amy's thin, pale face twitched slightly, her eyes darting to the other barista at the till. "Well…to be honest, not so great," she said in a low voice. "It's been hard, the…the cravings, you know. Sometimes it's so strong, I just…I don't think…"

Jason gave her arm a reassuring squeeze. "Be strong. I believe in you, even if you don't believe in yourself."

Amy grimaced. "You don't know-"

"I do know," Jason said firmly. "Tell you what. Why don't I swing by here after your shift? We'll grab a bite, see a movie, or get a drink. Whatever you like, my treat."

Amy ducked her head. "You don't have to go to all that trouble for me, Father, honestly. I'm sure you have-"

"Hey, what makes you think I'm doing this for you?" Jason interrupted, arching an eyebrow. "Just because I'm a man of God now doesn't mean I've given up having friends."

Amy fiddled with the end of her braid as a small, tentative smile crept over her face. "Six o'clock ok?"

Jason grinned. "Sounds great. See you then."

Amy nipped back behind the counter to serve the next customer. Jason grabbed his coffee and headed out into the crisp autumn afternoon.

It was a glorious day, the late afternoon sun bathing the streets of Gotham in a warm golden glow, making it all seem much brighter and cleaner than it normally was. There was a hint of snow on the wind, and he made a mental note to check up on the homeless residents of his neighbourhood in the next few days, to make sure they knew they would have a place to go once the weather turned. He sipped his coffee appreciatively even as his fingers twitched at his side. The taste of coffee and cigarettes would always be indelibly seared into his brain, inextricable as peanut butter and jelly, ketchup and French fries. He would not allow himself the vice, however. Smoking one thing invariably led to smoking other things, and before he knew it, he'd be chasing the dragon down to the depths of hell and this time, there would be no divine intervention, no second chance, only the darkness and the horror and the need forever burning in his veins.

"Eternal God, Whose mercy is endless, and treasury of compassion inexhaustible, look kindly upon us, and increase Your mercy in us, that in difficult moments, we might not despair, nor become despondent, but with great confidence, submit ourselves to Your holy will, which is Love and Mercy Itself. Amen," he muttered quickly, as much for Amy as for himself.

He took a deep breath and sighed. Some days, he wondered if he should give up coffee altogether just to avoid the temptation, but with a café on every corner, it was far too difficult to avoid. Some cravings were worth fighting – caffeine was not. Besides, it was too useful a tool for getting reluctant people to open up to him. Meeting at the church or having a priest visit your home were both equally intimidating prospects for some, but few could refuse a friendly invitation for a cup of coffee.

He rounded the corner, stepping onto the main street of his neighbourhood.

"Yo! Yo, Jay! Over here!"

Jason turned to find a familiar group of teenagers lounging in front of a convenience store across the street. He hesitated, checking his stride as he considered pretending he hadn't heard them. But they might follow him then, and he didn't want to risk making a target of himself. With a sigh, he turned to cross the street.

He took in their appearances at a glance, noting, with dismay, a few new gang tattoos on some of the younger boys. They hadn't exactly been his friends before he died – he'd had few enough of those, if any – but he had grown up with them, and like so many others in the neighbourhood, they had all been caught up in the Brother Blood cult to varying degrees.

"Hey, Trav, long time no see." Jason shoved his hands into his coat pockets instinctively, although he no longer carried a weapon on his person.

"Still thumpin' your bible every night?" Travis said, with a lewd gesture. The other guys laughed.

Jason snorted. "Masturbation is a sin, and from the looks of it, one that you indulge in far too often."

"Burn," Bobby said.

"Whatever, I got bitches to do that shit for me. Whaddyou got, choirboys?" Travis sneered. "You like 'em young, Jay? Little kids get you off? That why you got into all this churchy bullshit?"

Jason rolled his eyes. "This 'churchy bullshit' saved my life, in more ways than one. God gave me a second chance, and I believe it was so I could serve Him."

"Hey, what was it like when you died?" Deke asked. He was one of the younger kids in the group, and the one Jason was most disappointed to see wearing gang colours. "Did you see like, a white light, and angels and demons and shit?"

Jason looked down to hide a wince. He didn't like to think about his death too closely. He didn't remember much, but whatever snippets of emotions he did recall terrified him.

"Naw, weren't nothin' like that," he said, and immediately cringed internally. His grammar tended to slip when he was flustered. Father Bruce would be disappointed in his lack of discipline. Annoyed at himself for letting such an innocuous question throw him, he quickly reigned in his emotions. "I mean, I don't remember much of anything. I just remember waking up in the hospital."

"Were you like, dead dead, for real?" Bobby asked.

Jason nodded. "I was dead for 12 minutes, 42 seconds. The docs called my time of death and everything. At least, that's what Father Bruce told me. Then I just…started breathing again, and three months later, I woke up. If that's not a miracle, and a testament to His unconditional mercy, I don't know what is."

"Whatever, man," Travis scoffed. "Go peddle your bullshit someplace else."

"All right, I'll go," Jason said with a shrug. "But if any of you guys have more questions, feel free to hit me up at the church. My door's open any time."

"Didn't you hear me? I said fuck off!" Travis growled.

Jason contained a sigh as he turned and headed back to the church at a leisurely pace – it wouldn't do for them to think he was running away. Well, at least they still respected him enough not to seriously harass or attack him. That was something. He wished he could do more, though, especially for kids like Deke. Sometimes he wondered if maybe he wasn't meant for something else, something that made more of an impact, especially on the streets, but the thought usually fled as quickly as it came. No, whatever else he might have been, this path had a rightness to it that satisfied him on some arcane level.

* * *

At five o'clock, Jason stopped by the parish priest's office to find Father Bruce hunched over his desk, scribbling out his homily for Sunday. There were discarded balls of notebook paper all around his desk.

"Still working on that, huh?"

Bruce barely looked up from his work, merely grunting to acknowledge his presence.

"Is there anything else you need me to do?" Jason prompted.

"You may go," Bruce said distractedly.

"All right, well I'm going out for the night, then. If you need me, just call my cell."

"Hmm," Bruce said, no longer paying any attention to him whatsoever.

With an indulgent smile, Jason pulled the office door shut on his way out. Some members of the parish found Father Bruce rather intimidating, with his height and bulk and his piercing gaze, but Jason knew that beneath that imposing exterior, he was a kind, compassionate man. People just rarely got past the surface, which was a shame, really.

He went back to his room in the rectory to change out of his cassock and into a long sleeved black clergy shirt and a black pair of trousers. He finished by slipping the collar into his shirt and pulling on his black wool coat. Walking quickly, he left the rectory.

Several blocks from the coffee shop, he was disappointed to see Travis and his gang still loitering on the street, this time in front of a locally owned convenience store called Frank's. Just as he was about to take an alternative route to avoid them, he heard Travis shout something. Although Jason couldn't understand the words at that distance, there was no mistaking the sneering contempt in the teenager's voice. He hesitated, turning to see what was going on.

There were two men standing outside the convenience store with plastic bags of food, surrounded by Travis and his gang. One of the men was short, with a compact build and dark hair, and the other was a tall, lanky redhead. From their dress, the men did not belong here. It wasn't that they were wearing anything too out of the ordinary, it was just something about the cut and colour of the clothing that marked them as strangers. Before Jason knew it, he had travelled half the distance to scene of the altercation.

"Hand it over, or I swear I'll gut you," Travis snarled. Jason caught the metallic flash as Travis brandished a switchblade, and his stomach dropped into his shoes. His hand went automatically to his pocket to grope for a knife that was no longer there.

"Look, we don't want any trouble," the dark haired stranger said as he handed the plastic bags of goods over to Bobby. His voice was deep and resonant, flavoured lightly with an accent that Jason couldn't place, something ancient and vaguely European sounding.

"Listen to this gay ass motherfucker," Travis mocked. "Where you from, Transylvania or something?" The others laughed at this.

"We're with Haley's Circus. I'm Dick Grayson of the Flying Graysons. Perhaps you've heard of us?"

By now, most of the boys were laughing and making various derisive comments.

Jason was behind Travis and Bobby as he approached, and though the two strangers could see him, the gang had yet to notice him. "Is there a problem here?" he asked loudly.

Travis whirled on him and for a second, was surprised enough to hide the knife behind his back. Then he saw who it was, and whipped the knife back out to wave it in Jason's face. "This don't concern you, Biblebitch. Now get the fuck outta here before I send you back to Jesus."

Jason stood his ground calmly, although his heart was pounding and he wished desperately that he had a weapon with which to defend himself. The thought was all wrong, he knew, but as the saying goes, you can take the boy out of the hood.

"Gimme a break," Jason said with a lot more confidence than he really felt. "You really think you can threaten me with all these witnesses around? How dumb can you be?"

Travis glanced up and down the street. There weren't many people about – locals knew better than to linger on the streets after dark in this neighbourhood - but there were a few people across the street striding quickly away from them, and of course the convenience store clerk, who was staring at them with wide, worried eyes, one of his hands hidden beneath the counter.

"Fuck you," Travis spat, though he snapped the switchblade closed and stuffed it back into his pocket. "Come on, let's bounce. This scene's gettin' tired. Let the fag carnies and their paedo priest fuck each other for all I care."

"Not so fast," Jason said. "Give them back their things."

Travis turned back around and got right up in Jason's face, so close that Jason could smell his cheap cologne. Jason resisted the urge to back up.

"Tell me what to do again. I fucking dare you," Travis grated through clenched teeth.

Jason met that savage glare with a firm but non-threatening stare. Or at least, that's what he was going for. Who knows what Travis was really reading from him.

After a moment, Travis snorted derisively at him, as though he'd won their unspoken battle of wills. "Next time I see you, you're a dead man." Then he snatched the plastic bags from Bobby's hands and hurled them to the ground, where he stomped viciously on them. The rest of the gang took their cues from him, and each stepped on or kicked something as they stalked away, loudly slinging racial and homophobic slurs as they went.

Jason exhaled shakily and unclenched his fists at his side. "Are you all right?" he asked, addressing the two strangers.

They turned from watching Travis and his gang leave to look at Jason. "We're fine, thanks to you," the man who had identified himself as Dick Grayson said. He smiled, and Jason suddenly felt all the air leave his lungs. The man was…beautiful, with delicate features, flawless olive skin, jet black hair and blue eyes that shone brightly even in the harsh fluorescent glare of the convenience store's external lights.

"Yeah, thanks for your help," the other man echoed, though Jason barely heard him.

He felt pinned by Dick Grayson's gaze, drawn to him like Icarus to the sun, knowing it will mean certain death but unable to free himself from that hypnotic draw.

Dick cocked his head as a small, worried frown erased that glorious smile. "Are _you_ all right, Father?" He touched Jason's arm lightly in concern.

At the touch, electricity jolted up Jason's arm, setting his entire body alight with an unbearably ecstatic tingling sensation. He jerked out of Dick's reach even as he felt his cock stir in his pants. Utterly mortified by the inexplicable reaction, he stammered out "I-I'm fine." He looked down at the smashed purchases on the floor, and decided that yes, that was a much safer thing to look at than Dick. "What a mess! Here, lemme get this...it's the least I can do." He dug his wallet out of his pocket and began pulling bills from it.

"That's really not necessary," Dick said.

"Seriously, don't worry about it," the other man said.

"I insist," Jason said. He shoved the fistful of bills into Dick's hands without meeting his eyes. But apparently, that was a mistake too, because for a moment, they touched, skin on skin, and though the electrifying feeling didn't happen again, it made Jason's blood roar in his ears and his heart hammer in his chest. Dick's palms were warm and dry, and Jason suddenly wanted them on him, Dick's hands all over his body, touching him, making him- He recoiled in horror at the impure thoughts seething through his mind. "I…I'm so sorry," he blurted.

"It's not your fault," Dick said mildly.

"Unless, of course, you _can_ mind control people," the other man said. "In which case, I'd be very concerned."

Dick rolled his eyes at his friend. "Please, Father…? We can't take your money." He held the wad of money out to Jason.

"Uh, it's Jason. Just call me Jason," Jason said, taking a step back to avoid Dick's hand – both because he didn't want the money back, and because he was afraid of what would happen if he touched Dick again. He was more flustered than he'd been in…maybe ever, and he wasn't sure he could stop himself from doing or saying something wholly inappropriate. "And please keep the money. Really, it's the least I can do." _For perving on you like a disgusting john,_ he finished internally.

Finally, Dick pocketed the money with a shrug. "All right, if you insist. Thank you, Jason. I'm Dick by the way, Dick Grayson, and this is my friend Roy Harper. We're with Haley's Circus. I'm one of the headlining acts, The Flying Graysons," he said proudly.

"It's nice to meet you," Jason said, including both of them in his smile, though he couldn't help but blush when Dick returned the smile with a dazzling grin, white teeth stark against tanned skin.

Dick regarded him for a moment before he said, "Tell you what, how about I give you something in return for the groceries. Would you at least accept that?" He reached into his other pocket and drew out several pieces of paper. He offered them to Jason with a smile. "Go on, take them. They don't cost me a thing."

Jason hesitated, but then he took them from Dick (without touching him). Closer examination revealed that they were tickets to the circus.

"These are general admission tickets to the circus," Dick said, pointing to the two larger tickets printed on white card stock, "and these are the ones for my show, The Flying Graysons," he said, indicating the two smaller tickets printed on blue paper. "The show starts at 8pm."

"Uh, 8pm tonight?" Jason asked.

Dick nodded.

"Well, actually, I've got plans to meet a friend, and-" Suddenly remembering Amy, Jason checked his watch and was horrified to note that it was now 6:15pm. "Shit!" he exclaimed.

Dick's eyebrows rose, though he looked more amused than scandalised. "We've made you late, haven't we?"

Jason flushed at the expletive. Well, that was going to be a few Hail Mary's at least. "I-I'm sorry, I have to go," he said. "Thank you for these, but I can't-"

"If you can't be there tonight, then come another night when you're free," Dick interrupted, refusing to take the tickets back just as Jason had refused to take his money. "Show your tickets to the person on the door and tell them you're my special guest; they'll let you right in."

An unexpected kernel of warmth bloomed in Jason's chest – he'd never been anyone's special anything. "Well…I guess I could come by later this week..."

"I insist," Dick said, once again unleashing that paralysing smile of his on Jason.

"Then I guess I'll see you soon," Jason said, a bit breathlessly (much to his disgust).

"I look forward to it. Good night, Jason."

"Goodnight," Jason said. Then he turned and sprinted for the coffee shop.

* * *

By the time Jason made it back to the rectory, it was midnight and he was beyond exhausted. Already paranoid and on edge, Amy had taken his tardiness as a rejection, and he'd spent the majority of the night talking her down from the proverbial ledge. Not that he'd expected it to be a fun evening – helping to keep recovering addicts from relapsing was always emotionally draining, especially for a fellow ex-addict – but he really wished it hadn't been quite so fraught. Still, he couldn't quite bring himself to wish the encounter with Dick and Travis hadn't happened. Even though he would be less likely to be stabbed the next time he stepped into the street, he also wouldn't have met Dick.

Dick…

He threw his clothes into a pile on top of the dresser and settled between the cold sheets in nothing but his boxer briefs.

What on earth had made him react that way to Dick? Sure, Dick was good looking, but so were a lot of people, and he'd never been attracted to any of them. Come to think of it, he'd never been attracted to anyone, at least not sexually. He supposed that wasn't normal, but he'd spent most of his teens taking care of his mom, and that hadn't left much time to dwell on anything other than the basic necessities. He hadn't even had any friends his age, guy or girl, to talk to about this stuff, let alone someone to whom he might have developed an attraction. The closest he'd ever come to having a serious discussion about sex was when his father, drunk at the time, had told him he'd kill him if he ever brought home "some knocked up bitch". He smiled into the darkness. Those were good times. Not perfect, but they were a family then, and that had meant something.

Things had changed when his mom died. Wracked with grief and loneliness, he'd turned to the only thing he knew that could take the pain away – heroin. The subsequent slide into depravity had been rapid and steep. He had no illusions about any of the sordid things he'd done, though. Just because he'd been willing to be fucked in a grimy club toilet for a bag of heroin didn't make him gay. He'd derived no pleasure from it, unless you counted his pleasure in the high. Sex was a means to an end, and not a particularly pleasant one at that. To be honest, when he'd joined the priesthood, the celibacy part had been easy. He had been only too happy to rid himself of sex, and all the pain, disease, degradation, guilt and shame that came with it. He thanked God every day that he'd never have to put up with it again.

With a sigh, he closed his eyes and relaxed. That thing with Dick had just been an aberration, a one-time reaction to a stressful situation. He had no interest in sex, with Dick or anyone else – never had, and never would. He smiled softly, the strength of his convictions comforting him as he drifted off to sleep.

Sometime later, Jason woke to the soft snick of his bedroom door latching shut. He opened his eyes to see a dark shape hovering near his door.

"Bruce? What is it? What's wrong?" he asked, propping himself up on an elbow. Blue eyes glowed brightly in the darkness, and suddenly, Jason's heart began to pound. "Bruce?"

"Hello, Jason." The intruder approached the bed, and as it got closer, the hulking shape resolved itself into Dick's muscular yet lithe form.

Jason sat up, clutching his blankets across his conspicuously naked chest. "Dick! What are you doing in here? How did you find me? This…this is my bedroom! You can't be in here, it's not…it's-"

"It's ok," Dick reassured him. He sat down on the bed beside him, brushing his leg in a way that made Jason swallow hard. "It wasn't hard to find you. This church is only a few blocks from where we met."

"Yes but, what are you doing here?" Jason repeated. "It's the middle of the night!"

Dick smiled that dazzling smile of his, bright blue eyes and shining white teeth glinting in the darkness. "I wanted to make sure you got home safely, especially after those boys threatened you."

"That's um…very kind of you, but you didn't have to check up on me. I've known those guys since we were all kids – they're all talk." That wasn't entirely true, but Jason wasn't going to get into Travis' violent history now. "Besides, you shouldn't be in here. This is…inappropriate."

"Is it?" Dick asked. His lips quirked in a sly grin as he reached up to stroke Jason's cheek, just the barest hint of a caress with the backs of his fingertips.

A shiver ran down Jason's spine at the touch, his cock instantly hardening beneath the duvet. He tried to protest, to push Dick away, but the only sound that emerged was a small, needy whimper.

"I saw the way you looked at me tonight, Jason. This is what you wanted, isn't it?" Dick said, his voice a low, seductive purr. He leaned in closer, his lips just brushing the edge of Jason's ear.

"N-no!" Jason cried. With an effort of will, he wrenched himself from Dick's embrace, scooting back several paces on the bed to put some distance between them. "I-I'm flattered, really, Dick, but I can't. This is wrong. I'm a priest! I took vows before God - chastity, obed-"

Dick cut him off with a kiss, closing the space between them seemingly without moving. His lips seared Jason from the inside out, awakening a raging lust in him that he had never known. Jason's body seemed to react of its own accord, independent of the protests his brain was lodging. His arms came up to wrap around Dick, to pull him closer so that he could feel the hard, muscular heat of him pressed against his chest. Dick was devouring his mouth, his soul, and Jason felt paralysed beneath the ecstatic onslaught, his body pliable, moulding to Dick's will as a matter of course. Dick's hands were everywhere, and they were just as Jason had imagined they would be, calloused, firm yet gentle, caressing, exploring, teasing. He was so hard he was aching, his entire body quivering with unspent sexual tension. When Dick finally entered him, he wanted to scream from the sheer joy of it, though he could barely make a sound.

"You are so hot," Dick growled into his ear as he fucked into him, long, luxuriant strokes that made sparks fly behind Jason's eyes with every thrust. No one had ever made him feel this way, had ever made this humiliating act feel anything less than uncomfortable at best and excruciating at worst. Dick's hand curled into his hair, the other gripping his hip, holding him down, fucking him, owning him, and all Jason could think was _more_. "So perfect," Dick murmured against his skin, and Jason glowed with pride at the compliment. Then Dick's hand wrapped around his cock, and it was all Jason could do to bite back a moan. "That's it," Dick purred. "You're so close. You've never come before, have you?"

Jason shook his head, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes from the overwhelming feelings coursing through his body like a raging, rain-swollen river.

Then Dick scraped a fingernail over his sensitive head just as a hard thrust caught him just right, and when Dick commanded "Now, Jason," Jason came with a silent scream, his body arching off the bed as he shot white hot jets of come all over Dick and himself.

Dick fucked him through the aftershocks, and finally, just as the continued stimulation was almost too much to take, Dick came with a low moan, his sweaty forehead pressed to Jason's neck.

They laid like that for a time, breathing, Dick's body covering Jason's, a pleasant and comforting weight. Then Dick pulled back slightly to gaze down at him. Jason was struck once again by his big, almost luminously blue eyes.

"This was fun, but I have to go now," Dick said with mischievous grin.

Jason frowned, but the protests died in his throat when Dick silenced him with a kiss.

"I'll see you again soon, I promise," Dick said, his voice fading to silence.

Jason snapped awake with a start, sitting up abruptly in his cold, dark bedroom. He clicked on his bedside lamp with shaking hands and cast about the room, but no one was there. Then he felt it, a cool wetness against his thigh, and his heart sank. He whipped the duvet off the bed to stare down in consternation at the dark stains on his boxer briefs.

"Shit," he muttered, Hail Mary's be damned.


	2. Chapter 2

Jason spent all morning answering emails and phone calls, and managed to schedule three baptisms, two funerals, and a wedding before he broke for lunch just past noon. He found Bruce in his office, this time hunched over his laptop, eyes focused on the screen with unwavering intensity.

"Lunch?" Jason said.

Bruce merely shook his head and waved him off. Jason sighed and left the church to fend for himself. Halfway to the sandwich shop on the corner, he suddenly realised he'd picked up a little shadow along the way.

"Hey, Deke," he greeted casually.

"Hey, Jay," Deke replied. They walked several more paces in silence while Jason waited for him to work up the nerve to reveal what was on his mind.

When nothing was forthcoming, Jason finally said, "How's your mom?"

Deke shrugged.

"Everything ok at home?"

"Yeah, whatever." Deke cast a furtive glance around them before he moved in closer. "Listen, Jay…"

Jason felt Deke's hand slip in and out of his pocket, leaving behind a solid weight. When he reached in, his hand closed around the familiar shape of a switchblade. "Oh Deke, no, this isn't-"

"Keep it," Deke said, shooting him a meaningful look. "Just…in case."

Jason winced. Even the slowest idiot would've recognized this for the warning that it was. He nodded to show he understood. "Thanks, man. Hey, listen, I've got these tickets to the circus tonight. You want to go with me?"

Deke's childish face scrunched into an unpleasant mixture of disbelief and disdain. "You gotta be fuckin' kidding me. What do I look like to you?" he scoffed. Then he abruptly kicked Jason in the ankle and ran off down an alleyway.

Jason stopped to rub the sting from his ankle with exaggerated distress, glaring after Deke for good measure. He had no doubt that someone, somewhere, was watching. It seemed his wary truce with the local gang was at an end. It was bound to happen eventually, he supposed. He was no longer just another neighbourhood junkie, easily ignored or intimidated into compliance, and they would have to decide how he fit into their world order now. As a religious leader in the community, he wasn't an enemy, exactly, but if they didn't consider him an ally, then where did that leave him? Well, whatever they decided, one thing was certain: he'd better be more careful from now on.

That evening, he sat cross-legged on his bed pondering the items he'd acquired in the last 24 hours. On one side were the circus tickets, and on the other was the newly acquired blade. The sight of each of these objects set his head and heart churning, though for completely separate reasons. He'd been able to avoid thinking about them all day, but it would be irresponsible of him continue in such a vein. He'd learned the hard way that keeping things bottled up, like his anger, loneliness and despair over the senseless and untimely death of his mother, would eventually destroy him. Besides, this was his weekly scheduled meditation and reflection time – it was kind of designed for this sort of thing.

With that in mind, he picked up the tickets and ran his thumb over the embossed lettering. Just because he'd had a wet dream about Dick didn't mean anything. His reaction on the street corner had been a fluke, and the dream was just his subconscious' way of working through it, he rationalised. It had been so real though. He reached up to trace his fingers lightly over his lips. He could still remember the feel of Dick's lips on his, of Dick's hands on his body, of Dick's cock buried balls-deep in his ass. He shuddered, shifting his weight uncomfortably as his cock stirred with interest. Heck, he could almost imagine that he felt a little sore, the way he used to after a night of debauchery, though back then he'd been so high he often didn't remember much of it. In contrast, he remembered everything about his dream encounter with Dick, every sordid act etched into his memory in vivid detail. He shivered.

He should put a stop to this, he knew. The appropriate course of action would be to throw these tickets away, to remove Dick from his thoughts, thus eliminating the source of temptation. He got up and walked over to the wastepaper basket next to his small writing desk. Before he could drop the tickets into the bin, however, his hands began to shake, and he found that try as he might, he could not let the tickets go. He couldn't deny that he wanted to see Dick again, yearned to see him flying high above the arena, his lithe, muscular form tensing and flexing with perfect precision. With a small cry of dismay, he shoved the tickets back into his pocket and brought his trembling hands up to wipe at his suddenly sweaty face.

"Oh Lord, have pity on us as we acknowledge our sins. Lead us back onto the path of righteousness, and protect us now and always from the wounds of sin. May we stay ever safe in your divine love and boundless mercy. Amen."

He took a deep, steadying breath and lowered his hands from his face. Yes, he would go to the circus, but only because Dick was expecting him, and he could hardly stand him up. Besides, the circus workers were God's children too, and who knows how long it had been since someone had tried to minister to them. Perhaps, he might actually be doing God's will.

Galvanized by the idea, he got up and dressed quickly. When he was ready to go, he paused to stare at the knife on his bed. The old Jason would've thought he was a fool for even hesitating, but Father Todd was appalled at the idea of walking the streets armed like a thug, with his collar on no less. He shook his head as he picked up the knife and threw it into the bottom of his sock drawer, where Father Bruce was unlikely to just stumble upon it. Violence was not the answer.

* * *

Jason wandered around the fairgrounds, taking in the sights, sounds, and smells of the circus with an almost childish delight. He'd never been to anything like this in his life, as his childhood had not been conducive to indulging in childish pursuits. As he looked around, he found himself smiling fondly at all of the children running and laughing around him, vicariously delighting in their delight. One little girl was holding a stick of cotton candy the size of her head, and in the course of eating it, had gotten it literally all over her face, hair and clothes. The rapturous look on her little pink, sticky face, however, was enough to make him grin. The girl's mother caught his eye as he passed, and rolled her eyes in loving exasperation before she lifted the child's sticky arm in a little wave. Jason waved back at them. To his left, two boys around Deke's age burst suddenly from some sort of haunted house type attraction. They were doubled over with laughter, punching each other in the arms and proclaiming in over-loud voices how scared the other one had been at this or that moment in the house. Still further on, Jason saw a young couple holding hands, their faces flushed with excitement as the Ferris wheel took them up high above the fairground.

Sometimes he wondered if he'd joined the priesthood too young. There were so many things he'd never experienced. The love of a doting parent, the camaraderie of a close friend, the intimate touch of a lover, the words "I love you" whispered softly in the dark. But then, he thought sadly, who was he to think that he'd ever have these experiences, priesthood or no? His mood plummeted instantly at the thought despite the cheerful atmosphere. He was just battling a bout of self-pity and was contemplating going home when someone tapped him on the shoulder. Startled, he turned to find Dick gracing him with a warm and welcoming smile.

"Surprise!" Dick said, posing rather dramatically. "The ticket takers told me you'd arrived, so I thought I'd pay you a pre-show visit. What do you think?" He gestured at his outfit with a flourish.

Jason eyed the outfit with no small amount of incredulity. It was unbelievably…sparkly, with a lot of…colourful detailing. "It's…uh, wow," he managed at last.

Dick grinned. "Total showstopper, right? I know it seems a bit gaudy now, but trust me, under the lights of the big top, it adds just the right amount of drama and flair."

"I don't doubt it," Jason said sincerely even as he very deliberately stopped gawking at Dick. In his defense, the suit did a remarkable job of outlining and emphasizing Dick's spectacularly well-made form. Desperate to find something else to look at, his gaze eventually settled on Roy, whom he abruptly noticed was standing behind Dick's left shoulder.

"Roy," Jason said, acknowledging the man with a handshake. "Good to see you again."

"Likewise," Roy said, giving Jason's hand a hearty squeeze.

"Listen, I gotta head back for pre-show warmup, but I'll leave you in Roy's capable hands, if that's ok?" Dick said.

Jason blinked in surprise. "Oh, you know, that's really not necessary. I mean, if you're both busy, I can-"

"Nonsense," Dick said brusquely. "Roy would be happy to show you around, wouldn't you, Roy?" He flicked his friend an unreadable look.

Roy's smile deepened into an outright grin that made his eyes gleam. "I live to serve."

Dick laughed, although Jason got the awkward feeling that Roy had only been partially joking. "I'll see you both after the show." With that, he turned and strode away, melting almost seamlessly back into the crowd despite his eye-catching outfit.

"He's…" Jason trailed off, at a loss for words.

"And then some," Roy agreed. "Have you eaten?" When Jason shook his head, he clapped him hard on the back and shoved him towards a group of brightly lit stalls. "C'mon, let's you a chilidog."

"I like the sound of that," Jason said.

As it turned out, Roy was a rather likeable guy. Not that Jason had expected otherwise; it was just difficult to think of anything or anyone else when Dick was around. Without Dick's overwhelming presence, however, Roy's personality really shone through. The man was often hilariously insightful, with an irreverent and rather sharp-edged wit that could have seemed cynical, if not for his genuine sincerity and lack of pretention. Jason had never met anyone like him, and found himself warming to him considerably.

"So what do you do around here?" Jason asked. He crumpled up the chilidog wrapper and tossed it into a nearby trashcan.

"I'm an impalement artist," Roy said with a little waggle of his eyebrows.

"Penis jokes in front of a priest, really?" Jason said, though he couldn't quite keep the laughter out of his voice.

"I'm at least ninety five percent serious," Roy said. "I specialize in archery and knife throwing."

"Wow, that's cool," Jason said. "But they don't really call you an "impalement artist", do they?"

"I shit you not," Roy said. "Wikipedia it if you don't believe me."

"No no, I believe you," Jason said, though he would probably still look it up when he got home. "So what are you doing bumming around with me? Shouldn't you be working?"

"My partner's on holiday this week. She and her new husband are at Graceland," Roy said.

"Seriously?" Jason asked, squinting at Roy in disbelief. Not that it seemed like a completely implausible story, but he still wasn't sure if Roy was messing with him.

"Yeah," Roy said. "She has a thing for Elvis – claims she talks to him. She's also one of our fortune tellers, when she isn't getting knives thrown at her and apples shot off her head."

"You couldn't get anyone else to replace her for the week?"

"I can't just shoot at anybody, you know," Roy said. "I mean, I could, but that wouldn't be very responsible. Whoever replaced her would have to do more than just learn the routine. I'd have to learn to read her, and vice versa, to make sure we could communicate nonverbally and anticipate each others' movements. Without that level of trust and familiarity, it's just too dangerous."

"I never thought of it that way," Jason said.

"Well, you're not supposed to," Roy said. "It's supposed to seem spontaneous, like I'm just shooting at the poor girl. If everyone knew how carefully choreographed the show was, it probably wouldn't be as thrilling."

"It's still dangerous," Jason pointed out. "She could still get hurt."

"True," Roy conceded. "But that's why the marks come. Nothing brings 'em in like the promise of blood. Take Dick's show, for instance. They always draw a bigger crowd when they fly without a net."

Jason felt a trickle of apprehension run down his spine. "Are they doing it without a net tonight?"

Roy nodded. "They usually do for these big Gotham shows. Really gets the crowd excited."

Jason grimaced. "Sounds barbaric, when you put it like that."

"Well, that's life, sometimes," Roy said.

"Yeah, I guess it is," Jason admitted.

Roy clapped him on the shoulder. "Don't worry about it so much. Dick knows what he's doing, and he's done it a million times. Now come on, let's go get ourselves a good seat for the show."

Roy managed to find them some truly excellent seats. It wasn't long before the lights dimmed in the rapidly filling room and the ringmaster stepped into the centre of the ring. He began his spiel, introducing himself and the circus with a curious, lilting gait to his speech. There were a number of warmup acts including clowns, jugglers, dancing bears, and people doing tricks on horses as they galloped around the arena. The crowd seemed to enjoy the warmup acts, laughing and clapping in all the appropriate places, but it was clear what they were all anticipating, Jason included. When the ring finally cleared and the ringmaster once again stepped into the centre, Jason found himself (along with the rest of the audience) edging forward in his seat. The ringmaster's voice slowly crescendoed till he finally introduced the headlining act of the night, The Flying Graysons.

Jason held his breath as the lights went out and an expectant hush fell over the audience.

Suddenly, a single spotlight lit up a high platform, and on it stood Dick in his dazzling outfit. Then the other platform lit, illuminating an older woman and man, both in matching outfits. All three posed dramatically before they leapt simultaneously into the air to grab their trapeze bars. Jason was mesmerized by the fluidity of their performance, by the coordinated lift and thrust and catch of their perfectly synchronized bodies. It was an awe-inspiring sight to behold, and he became so deeply engrossed in the performance that it was a bit of a shock when it seemed to end rather abruptly. Before he knew it, the house lights were back on and Roy was giving him a rather knowing look.

The audience filed out of the ring slowly, their voices filling the space with excited chatter. Jason heard liberal use of words like "amazing", "spectacular", and "gorgeous", and couldn't agree more. In fact, he didn't think there _were_ words to adequately describe Dick's performance. He followed Roy in the opposite direction from where the other patrons were heading, down towards the ring rather than up towards the exits. Roy skirted around the ring and finally down to a service door to the right. There were a few people afoot, mostly tending to gear or standing around in small groups chatting, and no one paid any attention to them. Roy led them down a dark hallway and finally knocked on an unmarked door to the left.

"Come in!"

Roy opened the door and stepped into the room. "Hey, it's me."

Roy didn't motion for him to follow, so Jason hovered awkwardly in the doorway. From what he could see, it was a dressing room of some sort, with a dresser/mirror in the middle and a couch on the side. He recognised Dick's sparkly outfit flung _over_ the couch along with a few other articles of clothing. Before he could contemplate what that meant, Dick suddenly came out from behind the door wearing…not a damn thing. His hair was damp and unruly, and his shoulders glistened with small droplets of water. Jason gulped at the sight of all that golden skin sliding over hard muscle, intense _want_ pooling in his groin along with, well, most of his blood. Then, to his utter shock, Dick pulled Roy down into a passionate kiss, his strong, nimble fingers tangling in the curling ginger locks at the back of Roy's head. Jason could only stare as that hand slowly slid down Roy's back and then up again, dragging the edge of Roy's t-shirt up as he went. Jason caught a glimpse of the pale, freckled skin beneath Roy's black t-shirt, and had a strong urge to run his fingers over the smooth hard planes of Roy's back, to compare and contrast the colour, texture and feel of Dick and Roy's respective bodies.

Suddenly, Roy cleared his throat and reached up to pull Dick's questing hand down. Dick blinked at him for a moment before he turned and finally noticed Jason in the doorway.

Dick shot Jason a somewhat guilty grin, though he didn't seem particularly ashamed, either of his nakedness or his actions. "Hello, Jason. You could've told me we had company," he said to Roy.

Roy rolled his eyes. "You didn't give me a chance."

Dick laughed. "No, I guess I didn't. Come in, come in," he said, beckoning to Jason.

Jason shuffled into the room and closed the door behind him. He saw now that the area behind the open door had contained a bathroom, from which Dick had emerged, fresh from the shower. He very resolutely refused to picture Dick in the shower, with all that hot water and slippery suds sluicing over his body.

Dick strolled unselfconsciously over to the couch and began sifting through the clothes there. After a few moments, he pulled on a low-slung pair of jeans (no underwear, Jason noted) that just barely covered his ass. Jason bit his tongue and tried desperately to curb the obscene thoughts floating through his brain, like the image of him throwing himself at Dick's feet and offering to peel those jeans right back off of him…with his teeth. Finally, Dick donned a simple white t-shirt and Jason was able to tear his gaze away. He found himself panting, his chest heaving, hands shaking.

"Oh, Jason, are you all right?" Dick asked, finally noticing his guest's unraveled state.

Jason felt his face flush hot with shame. "I'm fine, I just…it was a fucking awesome show, man," he blurted. "Wicked cool. I ain't never seen nothin' like it."

Dick beamed at him, making Jason's stomach flip over. "Thank you! I'm so glad you liked it. I was kind of worried you wouldn't enjoy yourself. I wasn't sure if this was your sort of thing. Not that I presume to know what priests do in their spare time, but you seemed so out of place earlier when I found you wandering the grounds, I thought maybe this just wasn't your scene."

"Uh, no, I guess it's not, normally," Jason said, somewhat taken aback by Dick's perceptiveness. "I mean, I never been to a circus before."

Dick gave him a knowing look that seemed to pierce straight through Jason's defenses, like Dick was gazing right into his soul. "But you liked it."

At a loss for words, Jason could only nod.

"Excellent," Dick said, giving Jason's arm a light squeeze.

Jason shivered as a shock of pleasure jolted through him, much like it had the first time he had touched Dick. God, what was happening to him? He had to get out of there, before he did something incredibly stupid, like touch or kiss Dick, or maybe lick every inch of his body from head to foot. He shuddered.

"I uh, I gotta go," he blurted. "I got…ah…mass in the morning, and uh…Bruce, F-father Bruce, he likes to…go over stuff…and uh…" He grappled with the doorknob in a near panic, but the damn thing wouldn't open.

"Oh, sorry, we didn't mean to keep you," Dick said. The press of his hand on Jason's shoulder stopped Jason cold. Dick closed in on him, so close that Jason could smell the faintly citrus scent of his shampoo wafting up from his dark hair. For one terrifying, paralyzing, heart-pounding moment, Jason was sure Dick was going to kiss him, just like he had in the dream. Then Dick reached over and opened the door before he stepped back slightly. "There you go. This knob's a little tricky sometimes."

Jason let out a sigh of relief even as disappointment raged through him.

"Thanks for coming to see my show," Dick said with a warm smile, his bright blue eyes almost luminescent in the room's low lighting. "Listen, we're in town for at least another month. Could we see you again?"

Jason knew he shouldn't, but Jesus himself probably couldn't have stopped him from nodding.

Dick grinned. "Wonderful. Here's my number." He grabbed a scrap of paper and a pen off the dresser and hastily scribbled his number on it.

Jason stuffed the slip of paper into his coat pocket. "I'll uh, I'll text you, so you have my number too."

"Great! Thank you again for coming, Jason. See you soon."

"Yeah," Jason said as he stumbled out of Dick's dressing room on rubbery legs.

His last sight of Dick and Roy before they closed the door was of Dick reaching for Roy's belt buckle murmuring 'now where was I'.

* * *

Jason ran all the way back to the church. When he finally burst into his bedroom, his heart was pounding hard enough to escape his chest and his lungs were burning like…well, like the fires of Hell to which his soul would soon be condemned. He collapsed onto his bed, not so much deliberately as his legs pretty much just chose that moment to give out. He rolled over onto his back and panted loudly, his chest heaving. He lay there for some time, contemplating the insides of his eyelids, trying to breathe evenly, to centre himself the way Bruce had taught him.

Finally, when he once again felt himself in control, he slid from the bed onto the floor, where he knelt at his bedside, clasping his hands together in prayer.

"Holy Mary, Mother most pure, and Joseph, chaste guardian of the Virgin, to you I entrust the purity of my body and soul. I beg you to intercede on my behalf, that I may not soil my soul by any sin of impurity. I pray for purity of thought, word and deed in imitation of your own holy purity. Grant me a deep sense of modesty, which will be reflected in my external conduct. For Jesus spoke, 'Blessed are the pure of heart for-"

"…they shall see God," a mellifluous, lightly accented voice finished for him.

Jason whirled around to find Dick standing over him wearing nothing but those tight, hip-hugging jeans.

"Did I get that right? It's been awhile," Dick said, an almost predatory smile curving his lips.

Jason stumbled backwards with a wordless cry, knocking the lamp on his bedside table over when the backs of his knees hit the edge of the table. "What are you doing here?" he demanded, anger thankfully rushing in to obliterate all other emotions. "You can't be in here, get out!"

Dick tsked softly at him as he stalked closer. "Come now, is that any way to treat a friend?"

Jason winced guiltily, edging around the nightstand until his back was pressed against the wall. "I-I'm sorry, Dick, but you really shouldn't be in here. This isn't right. Please, you have to go."

Dick stopped just short of touching him. He was so close that Jason could feel the heat radiating off of him through their clothing. "We both know that you want me, Jason, so let's not kid ourselves. It's more than just lust, too. The truth is, there's something between us, a connection. I felt it the moment I laid eyes on you. You were destined to be mine."

"That's crazy," Jason said weakly, though he couldn't deny the surge of desire burning in his veins. The thought of _belonging_ to someone, especially someone as handsome and talented and amazing as Dick, was…more than he'd ever hoped he could have in this life.

"No, it's fate," Dick whispered as he leaned in and claimed Jason's lips.

Jason felt his traitorous body surrender to the kiss, melting under Dick's touch like wax beneath a flame. Dick's fingers carded through his hair, tugging lightly as his knee wedged itself between Jason's legs. Jason moaned into Dick's mouth. He felt lightheaded and dizzy with lust. After a while, Dick relinquished his mouth only to latch himself onto Jason's neck, licking and sucking his way down to his collarbone.

"Hnn, no, please," Jason protested, though even he realized how pathetically wanton he sounded. He pushed at Dick's shoulders, but Dick only grabbed his wrists and pinned them against the wall. "No, Dick- ah!" he cried out as Dick ground himself hard against Jason's aching erection.

"What were you saying?" Dick hissed, lapping slowly at the edges of Jason's ear.

Jason shivered. "Please…please leave," he begged, even as he rutted involuntarily against Dick's leg.

Dick snorted softly. "I don't believe you." He pulled Jason away from the wall by his wrists and shoved him unceremoniously down onto the bed. "If you really want me to leave, then you're going to have to say it like you mean it."

The break in contact was just enough to clear Jason's head slightly, and he sat up to fix Dick with as stern a look as he could manage. "I'm sorry if I've given you the wrong impression, but I really don't want this. Please leave before I call the police."

Dick laughed, his eyes lighting with glee. "Oh, that was much better. I almost believed you that time."

"I'm serious! I'm a priest! For God's sake, we're in the church rectory!" Jason said with a desperate wave at their surroundings. He moved to stand but Dick pushed him back down and climbed on top of him. "This isn't funny, Dick! Get off me!"

"Shhh," Dick purred as he leaned down to caress Jason through his trousers. "Just relax."

Dick's touch was electric, and Jason arched into his hand with a soft cry, objections dying on his lips. Dick quickly unbuttoned and unzipped Jason's pants, then slid them and his underwear off with one smooth, practiced motion. Jason's shirt quickly followed, and before long, he was naked under Dick's appreciative gaze.

"So beautiful," Dick murmured softly as he leaned down and took Jason in his mouth.

"Oh Jesus God!" Jason yelped, his hands fisting in his sheets as his toes curled as they hung off the edge of the bed. He'd given his fair share of blowjobs and then some during his junkie days, but never had anyone returned the favour. Dick's mouth was like a furnace, and it was so slick and wet and perfect. Jason moaned loudly, writhing in sheer ecstasy beneath Dick's ministrations.

There was something he was supposed to say, some objection he was supposed to make to all of this, but for the life of him, he couldn't remember what it was.

Then Dick's unbelievably amazing mouth was replaced by his unbelievably amazing hand, and before long, Jason felt Dick tongue his hole. Whatever reservations he had promptly disappeared in a whiteout of sensation. Dick's tongue was soon replaced by his fingers, and then his hot hard cock, and through it all Jason moaned and begged for more, and when he finally came, with Dick's cock buried in his ass and Dick's hand fisting his cock, he screamed Dick's name into the night.

Jason woke with a silent scream on his lips, his body shaking violently as he spent himself into his pants. He sat up and saw that he had fallen asleep on his bed fully clothed in his clergy shirt and dark trousers. With a cry of utter shame, he did the first thing his unravelling wits could think of – he ran out of the church, as though he could so easily hide himself from the eyes of God.


	3. Chapter 3

Jason staggered through the streets in a desperate haze, his head and heart churning with guilt and shame. He sank to his knees in a dark alley and vomited the remains of his dinner, the partially digested chilidog coming up painfully astringent. He spat several times but the taste lingered, sour and unpleasant. The urge to do something, something drastic and horrible and wrong, was so strong.

He wanted the dreams to stop. He wanted them to be real. He wanted Dick to leave Gotham and never come back. He wanted to run away with the circus. He wanted he wanted he wanted he wanted…

With a cry of anguish, he reached up and ripped the collar from his throat, dropping it amongst the filth and trash. Then he ran, blinded by tears but it didn't matter because his feet knew the way, his body following a path that had been etched into muscle memory long ago. And then he was there, in his old digs, just a corner he'd carved out for himself in a dilapidated warehouse when he hadn't a place in the world to call home.

The place had been ransacked, most of the useful things like blankets and dishes stolen, but there was one place that the casual scavenger was unlikely to have looked. He groped around on his hands and knees in the dark until he came across a smooth metal plate. Flipping it up, his questing fingers found the electric sockets underneath, long dead since the power to the building had been shut off years ago. It was just a decoy anyway. He yanked the entire assembly up and just below, he found what he was looking for. He pulled the small plastic sack out of the hole and dug around until his hand closed around the familiar shape of a lighter. With the aid of the little flickering flame, he sifted through the contents of the bag. There was a clean-ish syringe in there along with a spoon, some cotton balls, and…well, his stash, or what was left of it. He lifted the little baggie out of the sack with shaking hands. For a moment, he simply stared at the brownish powder, need burning like an unquenchable thirst through his veins, but then the lighter suddenly became a little too hot to hold, and he dropped it with a hiss. The warehouse went dark.

"What the fuck am I doing? Oh God, oh God oh God oh God," he moaned, dropping the baggie to cover his face with his hands. "Oh Lord, have…m-mercy on me. Lead me back onto the path of r-righteousness, and protect me now and always from my stupid f-fucking pathetic self. Please, God help me. Please please please please. Amen."

He sucked in several ragged breaths and felt his panic begin to subside. Quickly, before, he could rethink it, he swept everything back into the plastic sack and replaced it beneath the socket assembly and the metal plate.

* * *

Bruce was just sitting at the small kitchen table in the rectory sipping a cup of coffee and making the final edits to his homily on his laptop when the door flung open hard enough to put a dent in the wall.

"Jason!" His eyes widened in shock as he took in his protégé's filthy, tear-stained appearance. He stood up quickly and came around the table to grip Jason's shoulders tightly. "What happened? Are you injured? Jason, look at me."

Jason looked up at the command, but the second he met Bruce's worried gaze, what little composure he had seemed to shatter under the scrutiny, and he collapsed against Bruce's chest with a wordless cry. Bruce held the shaking young man in his arms and murmured soothing nonsense words. He didn't like to jump to conclusions, but he suspected he knew what this was about. He was well acquainted with Jason's past, after all, and the two of them had sat many a time at this very table and talked late into the night, until Jason's restless hands had stilled and his cravings were once again under control.

"…so close, I almost…I was there, and I had it, and I could've, but I didn't, I could've but I didn't, and it was so close." Jason's face crumpled in anguish as another tortured sob escaped him, fresh tears and snot running down his face.

Bruce grimaced. He grabbed a paper towel off the roll on the kitchen counter and handed it to Jason. "Sit down and compose yourself. I'll get us a drink." He was gratified to see Jason wiping at his face and attempting to get himself under control while he went to pour them both a stiff drink. When he returned, Jason seemed marginally calmer, although silent tears still dripped slowly off his chin to soak into his dark clergy shirt.

"What happened?" Bruce asked.

Jason downed the shot of whiskey and Bruce obligingly poured him another before he answered. "I…I've been having these…thoughts. Bad thoughts. Um…impure thoughts." He flicked a glance up at Bruce and flinched as though he expected…what? Judgment, recrimination, a slap in the face?

That small gesture was enough to remind Bruce that their relationship went far deeper than any mentor/mentee relationship, that Jason thought of him not just as Father Bruce but as a father. He remained still, keeping his expression sympathetic, his voice calm. "You know, Jason, just because we make a pledge of celibacy doesn't mean we never think about sex. We're human, after all. We're bound to think about it some time. The key is not to dwell on it, and to purge these urges through meditation and prayer."

Jason wrung his hands. "I tried. I tried and it didn't do any good. Ever since I met him, I can't stop thinking about him. Every time I close my eyes-"

"iHim?/i Him who?" Bruce asked, his eyebrows disappearing into his hairline. Merciful Lord, this was even worse than he'd thought. It was one thing to have the odd erection when an attractive woman passed you on the street – those sorts of automatic reactions were almost impossible to control, particularly for a young man in his sexual prime – but it was quite another thing to be lusting repeatedly after one person. One iman/i, at that!

Jason quailed at the look on his face, and Bruce very deliberately smoothed his expression back into a neutral one.

"Dick…his name is Dick," Jason said, licking his lips nervously. "He's a travelling circus performer. I met him the other night in front of Frank's. Travis and his gang were giving him and his friend a hard time, so I helped them out. To thank me, he gave me free tickets to his show. I thought…it couldn't hurt, right? I mean, it's just a show; lots of people go to these things. But last night I had this…dream, and I…I uh, in my sheets, you know."

Bruce raised an eyebrow at the boy's bright red face. "Yes, I know."

"And then tonight, when I saw him, it was like…I don't know. I couldn't stop thinking about it. And then he touched me-"

"He _what_?" Bruce asked sharply.

Jason cringed. "Not like that, I mean, just like, on the arm, you know? But it felt like…it was like…" His face contorted in frustration. "Every time he looks at me, every time he touches me, I feel like all the air's been sucked out of my lungs, and my brain's melting and I'm just…burning up from the inside out."

Bruce frowned. This did not sound like a passing bout of lust, or even a schoolboy crush. This sounded, if he was frank, altogether rather sinister. "How many times have you dreamt about this man?"

"Uh, twice, including tonight," Jason answered.

"And you've never had dreams of this nature before?" Bruce asked.

Jason shook his head emphatically. "Never. Hand to God, Father, I don't think about sex like that. I ain't never had dreams like these before. They feel…well, real, like it's actually happening, and the feeling doesn't go away even after I wake up."

Bruce hmm'd thoughtfully. "Describe these dreams to me."

Jason hesitated, and there was another bout of intense hand wringing, but after another slug of whiskey, he finally started to talk.

"The first time, I was asleep, and he came into my room. At first I thought it was you, but then he came over to the bed and I recognised him. I tried to tell him to leave, that he didn't belong there, that it was wrong, but he wouldn't listen. Then he started kissing me, and touching me. I couldn't stop him. I wanted to, but it felt so good, and I felt…weak, paralysed, like I couldn't move or speak. He had these…glowing eyes, like bright blue. When he looked at me, it was like he was seeing into my soul. Tonight it was mostly the same. Again, I thought I was awake, but I wasn't. I was praying, and he came up behind me. I told him to leave, but he wouldn't. He kept touching me, and I…I couldn't resist him."

Jason buried his face in his hands, his shoulders shaking with silent sobs. "Wh-what's wrong with me?" He looked up at Bruce with such anguish that Bruce's heart couldn't help but twist in sympathy. "I never, _ever_ felt this way about anyone, girl or guy. Honest, Father, I ain't never felt this way about sex. It's never felt good before, so I don't know where all this shi-stuff is coming from. I mean, how do you imagine something if you don't even know what it feels like?"

"That's a good question," Bruce said. He could feel a theory forming in the back of his mind, but he didn't like it, and didn't want to bring it up until he had heard more. "You say you've never experienced sex? Not even when you lived on the streets?"

Jason shook his head. "Oh no, Father, I didn't mean that at all. I had sex loads of times, but it never felt any good. Mostly I was just doin' it for a fix. I ain't never…you know…come from it."

Bruce resisted the urge to grimace. It saddened him to think that Jason had had so many negative sexual experiences, and no positive ones to counteract them, and now probably never would. Still, a life dedicated to God was filled with its own joys, and divine love enough to compensate for any tragedy, even, say, the brutal murder of one's parents at the tender age of ten. "So you've never…orgasmed, not even by your own hand?" he asked, tripping over the word as delicately as he could.

Jason looked away, his face flushing. "Well, I guess I have now."

Bruce pressed his lips into a thin, hard line. "Jason, listen to me very carefully. I don't think these dreams are normal. Most people have had the kind of dreams that bring about…nighttime emissions, myself included, and they are, for the most part, pleasant experiences. What you're describing here sounds like someone is forcing something unwanted upon you, and aside from the perceived physical pleasure, these don't seem like pleasant experiences at all. Would you say that's accurate?"

Jason frowned. "I…I wouldn't say he forced it on me, Father. I mean, I wish I could say I fought him, but I didn't, not really," he admitted with a look of chagrin.

"What matters is your intent, and you intended to expel him from your room, did you not?"

"Yeah…yeah, I guess so," Jason said.

Bruce nodded. "To be perfectly candid, I don't think this 'Dick' person is a person at all. I think he may be a demon. In the old literature, beings like him were referred to as incubus (singular), or incubi (plural). The female form, which you've surely heard of, is succubus. They feed on the emotions and sexual energy of humans, usually in the guise of dreams."

Jason snorted, and then outright laughed. "Ok, very funny, haha-"

"I'm not joking," Bruce interrupted.

Jason's smile vanished. "What, like seriously?"

"The way you describe your dreams, the paralysis and inability to speak – these are classic signs of an incubus attack," Bruce explained. "Coupled with the glowing eyes, and the way you can't seem to help yourself around him, I think it's pretty obvious what's happening here. This creature is preying on you, manipulating you and feeding off of you like a parasite."

Jason shook his head. "No, no, that can't be. Dick's a nice guy, honest, and his friend Roy's on the level."

Bruce raised an eyebrow at him. "Outside of your dreams, you can't think of anything sexual in nature that this man's done in your presence to manipulate you? Not a single thing?"

Jason bit his lip and looked away as he remembered the awkward encounter in Dick's dressing room. Had Dick been trying to manipulate him then? It was possible. "Well…"

"I thought so," Bruce said. "Listen to me, Jason. These demons, they're attracted to those with a…loose mind, people who lack discipline. Now, we both know that as a former addict, you have a fundamental lack of self-control. It's very important that you discipline your mind to resist these attacks. You _must not_ allow it free reign, to do with you as it wishes. Do you understand me?"

Jason nodded, his face pale and pinched with terror.

"When it comes for you, you fight it, understand? Don't let it distract you with sexual temptations. Call upon the name of God, if you must. Whatever you do, _do not_ let it feed from you again," Bruce said. "You are locked in a battle now, not just for your mind and body, but for your eternal soul. Once this creature owns your soul, you will forever be damned to the fires of Hell."

Jason shuddered. "I understand."

"Good," Bruce said. "Now come, it's late. We have mass in the morning. I hope I can count on you to help me with it?"

"Yes, of course, Father," Jason said. He hesitated, however, when Bruce tried to herd him towards their bedrooms. "Thank you, Bruce. For listening to me, and…not thinking I'm totally crazy or something."

Bruce gave the boy's shoulder a warm squeeze. "Anytime, Jason. Good night. Remember what I said now."

Jason nodded. "Good night."

* * *

Jason lay in his bed for a long time. He was so tense and stiff that he jumped at every creak of the house. Leave it to him to attract a fucking incubus! He was such a worthless, pathetic, weak-willed loser. No wonder it was so easy for Dick to manipulate him. He wondered if Dick was feeding off of Roy, too, but that seemed unlikely. Roy was a great guy, strong, confident, and smart. He was nothing like Jason. Well, maybe Dick wasn't feeding on Roy, at least not like that. Hell, maybe Roy was an incubus too. If Dick could be one, then why not Roy? He sighed. There was no use wondering about these things now. His task was to repel the demon, not ask it personal questions. He would repel it, too. He could stand up to Dick. He could, and he would.

With a sigh, he closed his eyes.

"Jason. Jason!"

Jason snapped awake, his heart in his throat.

"It's all right, it's just me," Bruce said.

Jason breathed a sigh of relief. "Did I oversleep? Is it time for mass?"

"No, it's still early yet. Come with me, I want to show you something," Bruce said.

Jason got out of bed and yawned. "Gimme a minute. Let me get some clothes on."

"Now," Bruce barked.

"I can't get dressed?" Jason asked, frowning in consternation at the thought of traipsing through the church in nothing but an undershirt and a thin pair of boxers. It seemed more than a little inappropriate.

"This is of the utmost urgency. It's about the incubus."

Jason was suddenly fully alert. "Show me."

He followed Bruce out of the rectory and into the nave. Bruce led him up onto the dais, where Jason stopped to take in the fact that though the lights were dimmed, there were hundreds of candles lit all over the room. The air was heavy with the scent of beeswax.

"Mmm!"

At the sound, he glanced down into the pews and felt shock ripple through him. Bruce was sitting in the first pew, a piece of duct tape over his mouth and his arms bound behind his back. Jason whirled around just in time to catch the demon's shape transforming from Bruce into Dick.

"Name me," Dick said as he stalked towards Jason. "Go on, I know you want to.

"Incubus!" Jason snarled.

At the word, a pair of dark blue wings sprouted from Dick's back, spreading out behind him in all their leathery, bat-like glory. The incubus laughed then, the sound ringing off the stain-glassed windows in discordant notes. Jason resisted the urge to cringe like a frightened child.

"Very good, Jason. I'm impressed. It's been a long time since anyone's managed to figure it out before I actually told them." It backed Jason up against the lectern, eyes burning with a cold blue light. "So…what will you do now, I wonder?"

"I…I'll reject you," Jason said loudly. "In the name of God, I reject you, demon!"

The incubus snorted. "Really now, Jason, that's hardly going to cut it." It reached up and trailed a hand tipped with razor sharp claws down Jason's chest to cup his balls through the thin material of his cotton boxers. Five tiny pricks let Jason know what would happen if it had a mind to squeeze.

Jason willed himself not to flinch. "What do you want with me?" he demanded.

The incubus grinned, revealing twin rows of pointed teeth. It was disturbing how unbelievably sexy it looked, even now. "I told you before, you are destined to belong to me."

"I belong to God," Jason said. "I am His servant, and His alone. You have no claim on me, demon."

"Poor little priest, so pious, so _pure_," the incubus mocked. "Do you honestly believe that some all-powerful, omnipotent being pays excruciating attention to your every thought and deed, and what's more, actually _cares_ about you?"

Jason glared at it. "Don't do that."

The creature's eyes took on a sadistic gleam. "Don't do what? Point out the glaring flaws in your so-called faith?" It leaned in for a kiss, presumably, but Jason stopped it with a hand on its chest.

"Stop it," Jason gritted. "You're not going to manipulate me this time."

"Aw, but we were having so much fun," the incubus said. It actually had the nerve to pout at Jason, which was a rather pathetic expression on Dick's face.

"No, we weren't," Jason spat. He wondered briefly if Dick had been a real person, once, or if he had always been this...thing. If he had once been Human, and this creature had stolen his form, it just…it didn't bear thinking about.

"Really?" the incubus said. It slowly massaged Jason's balls in its hands, making him arch back against the lectern. "I think you enjoyed yourself quite a bit." A shock of pure pleasure ripped through Jason, and he gasped, seeing stars.

"Oh God…"

The incubus flipped him around so that he was gripping the lectern and facing the pews, as though he were giving mass. In fact, when he glanced down, he saw that the Bible was open beneath him, probably still open to the passage that Father Bruce had read to the congregation last week. He looked back up and saw the man himself sitting in the pews, staring at him with wide, terrified eyes. For a second, he almost broke free of the incubus' hold, but then it licked a wet stripe from the base of his balls up to his asshole, and he moaned loudly, spreading his legs and leaning hard on the lectern to keep from sinking to his knees.

"That's it," the incubus murmured, lavishing its attention on Jason's hole with tongue and fingers that were now mysteriously clawless. Jason shivered, his cock erect and leaking against the lectern despite the disappointment he could read in Bruce's eyes, even from this distance. The humiliation licked at his skin like an actual flame.

"Please…Dick…" Jason begged, though he no longer knew what he was begging for.

"What do you want, pretty? Tell me. I want to hear it from your lips," Dick purred in Jason's ear.

Dick's fingers twisted inside of him and Jason gasped out, "F-fuck me! Please, Oh God…"

"Here, in His holy house, in full sight of God and man?" Dick asked, his fingers curling and flexing inside of Jason in a way that made his entire body shake with pleasure.

"Y-yes," Jason whimpered.

"What was that?" Dick asked, removing his fingers altogether.

Jason cried out at the loss.

"What do you want, Jason, tell me!" the incubus commanded.

"Fuck me!" Jason shouted, heedless of Bruce's dismay, heedless of the saints staring down at him from all sides, from the crucifixions on the walls to the depictions in the stained glass, heedless even of the Bible beneath him, the holy pages stained with his tears. "Fuck me here, now, anywhere, everywhere, just do it!"

He howled in pure ecstasy when the demon finally took him, ramming into him with hard, brutal strokes that claimed his soul surer than any God ever had.

"You belong to _me_!" Dick growled in his ear.

"Yes, God, yes," Jason panted and then his orgasm hit him, and he screamed, his voice ringing from the rafters as he spilled all over himself and the lectern.

The demon came but seconds later, filling Jason with its hot seed.

Jason woke shouting incoherently. He sat up in the darkness of his bedroom, momentarily disoriented. He clicked on the bedside lamp and struggled to his feet. Looking down, he saw that he had once again messed the front of his boxers. But then…then he felt it. An insidious little tickle on the inside of his thigh as…as the demon's vile seed came leaking out of his ass.

It was real. Dick was a demon, and it was all real, and oh God he was going to Hell!

With a guttural snarl of horror, he ripped the boxers off and wiped frantically at his skin. He began to hyperventilate, his brain turning to static as blind panic overtook him.

His stash, he had to get to his stash. It no longer mattered what he did with himself, because he was damned, damned to burn in Hell for all eternity.

He stumbled blindly through the streets, half dressed in whatever clothing he could find, letting pure instinct take him back to his hiding place again. He turned down an alley and almost ran headlong into someone.

"Hey, watch where you're – Jay?"

Jason pulled up short at the sound of his name. Two figures emerged from the darkness, and he suddenly recognized Travis and Bobby.

"Well if it isn't the little Bible thumper," Travis sneered.

Jason took a step back, but stopped when he felt a knife prick his ribs. He turned to find two more of Travis' gang behind him. Deke was missing, but he wasn't sure if that was a good or a bad thing. Good, for Deke's sake. Bad, probably, for his sake.

"Where you going looking so…fucked up?" Travis asked, with what sounded like genuine confusion in his voice.

"I don't have time for this," Jason snapped. "Just…fuck off, willya?"

"Or what?" Travis goaded.

"Or this, asshole!" Jason growled right before he punched Travis in the face.

There was a blur of motion, punches thrown, body blows connecting, and then Jason felt the knife slip between his ribs. With a startled cry, he crumpled onto the dirty concrete.

"Fucking cunt," someone snarled, spitting on Jason. Someone else kicked him in the back, though he barely felt it. And then they were gone, the slapping of sneakered feet fading away into the night.

Jason gasped raggedly, but he couldn't seem to catch his breath. It was likely that the blade had punctured his lung. At least his death would be quick. He stared at the ground, saw a slowly spreading pool of darkness beneath his body, and felt cold despair wash over him. Maybe Dick would visit him in Hell.

* * *

**Epilogue**

"How's he doing?" Dick asked. He slipped into the bedroom he shared with Roy and closed the door behind him.

Roy looked up at him with an unreadable expression. "Still sleeping. It's a good thing we found him when we did. We almost lost him."

Dick could tell immediately that his _sclav_ was upset, could sense the complex emotions churning through him. He resisted the urge to savour the tart, tantalizing taste of Roy's hurt and confusion. Though he was able to feed on all strong emotions, not just happy or sexual ones, he didn't particularly enjoy the taste of the more negative emotions. Some Incubi did, but then again, some Humans enjoyed causing pain to others as well.

"Yes, we did," he agreed. He sat down on the other side of the bed, with Jason's sleeping form curled between them.

"Did you know he was an addict?" Roy asked. His hands clenched into white-knuckled fists against his thighs. "And the warehouse, was that…did you know he was going to do that? Did you purposely drive him to-"

Dick made a dismissive noise, and reached out to soothe Roy with a touch. "The important thing is that we stopped him."

Roy recoiled from him. "You _did_ know!" he accused. "Is that why…why…" He stood abruptly and backed away from the bed, the horror plain on his face.

Dick reigned in a sigh. He should never have allowed Roy to accompany him on the hunt, to witness his methods so intimately. He just…well, he'd admittedly been too focused on the thrill of the chase, and the giddy intoxication caused by Jason's wildly vacillating emotions, to stop to consider how this might affect Roy. Not that he needed Roy's permission to take on another _sclav_, but he did care about Roy's feelings, and regretted any pain he may have caused him.

"Of course not," Dick said. He got up to crowd Roy against the bureau, the proximity forcing the Human to breathe in his pheromones. "Every person is different, unique. I didn't seek him out because his addiction presented an exploitable weakness – it just happened to be the case. It was the same with you. I didn't target you because of your addiction, I wanted to be with you because I fell in love with you." He didn't mention that he hadn't needed to know about their specific circumstances, that addictive personalities like Roy and Jason were easily identified, attractive like the choicest prey to a hungry predator. Not only were they easy to manipulate, but they made excellent thralls, being generally both loyal and affectionate – if handled correctly, that is.

Roy looked down. "Yeah, right," he muttered.

"Hey, look at me," Dick said, tilting Roy's chin up with a finger. He turned up the dial on his hypnotic gaze. Just a little, not too much or Roy would suspect he was being manipulated, and that would just defeat the purpose. "I love you. This doesn't change any of that. Understand?"

Roy's eyes glazed over slightly as he leaned involuntarily into Dick's touch. "Yeah. I…I love you, too."

"I know, _ves'tacha_. I can feel it here," Dick said with a hand over his heart. He gave Roy a slow, lingering kiss. "You will help him, won't you? You'll care for him, and love him, as you love me, and I love you?"

Roy flicked a glance over to the bed, and his gaze softened. He nodded wordlessly.

Dick smiled, channeling all of his warmth and affection into the expression. Roy responded accordingly, as Dick knew he would, and they were just "rounding second base" as the Americans liked to say, when they were interrupted by a sharp rap on the door.

Dick broke away with a sigh. "Come in."

Dick's mother let herself into the room a second later. She cast Jason a disdainful look before fixing the full force of her maternal ire on Dick.

"Haven't you got enough pets?" she demanded with a gesture in Roy's direction.

"Hey, I'm right-"

"Can you give us a minute?" Dick cut Roy off with a meaningful look.

Roy muttered something under his breath, but he quickly ceded the room to them. When Dick's mother was unhappy about something, it never boded well for anyone in the vicinity, regardless of his or her involvement in the issue at hand.

"Honestly, Richard, a _priest_?" his mother hissed as soon as the door had closed behind Roy. "You know how much I hate those xenocidal zealots. Our kind hasn't tangled with the Church in centuries, and I will not have you antagonizing them. We have lived in peace these last two hundred years, and I do not wish to return to being persecuted, hunted like animals, chased from town to town and burned out of our own homes!"

Dick groaned. "I was careful! I even wiped the parish priest's memories afterwards. No one will know. Everyone will just think he relapsed, and died of an overdose somewhere on the streets. Those street thugs might even spread a rumour that they killed him. Either way, no one's going to come looking for him."

"Be that as it may, you can't possibly think that you can trust him. Nothing is so important to these fanatics as their so-called God, and in case you've forgotten, they consider our kind demons. To this day, the Jesuits still stop at nothing to destroy us. How could you bring something like that into our midst?"

"He's different, Mother," Dick said. "He would never betray me, I know it."

His mother sneered at him, making it quite clear what she thought of that. "Anyway, why would you even need another one?" she asked, switching tacks abruptly. "You've got Roy, and as far as I can see, you're happy, healthy and well fed."

"But look at him," Dick said plaintively, gesturing at Jason's sleeping form. "Isn't he adorable? Besides, it's too much of a drain on Roy sometimes. If I feed on him too often, he can't perform his act, and then the circus loses money, etc. etc."

"You coddle him too much," his mother snapped. "It's never stopped your father from performing."

"Yeah well, what can I say, Dad's amazing," Dick said blandly. "Come on, just look at him." He reached down to sweep Jason's hair back from his face. "He's so kind, and generous, and responsive, and I know you can't see it now, but he has the most beautiful eyes." He smiled down at Jason, taking his slack hand in his. "This world hasn't been kind to him, and I just…I want to give him everything he never had."

His mother heaved a sigh. "I can see there's no reasoning with your infatuation. Fine, keep your plaything, but if I even suspect that this is going to turn against us, you are going to dump that pitiful creature on its master's doorstep, and we are leaving the Americas for good, do you understand me?"

"If he becomes a problem, I'll deal with him myself," Dick said. "On my life, I swear it."

* * *

Much later, long after the lights were out, Dick laid himself down on the bed, slotting himself neatly between his Humans. On one side, Roy snored softly into his ear, pale, lightly freckled skin glowing in the moonlight as his fiery locks curled messily into his eyes. On the other side lay Jason, silent, dark hair swept back to reveal a troubled frown gracing his brow, as though even in sleep, he could find no peace.

"Relax, _ves'tacha_," he murmured. "You belong to me now. No one will ever harm you again. You have my word."

Jason sighed softly at the sound of his voice. As Dick continued to soothe him, carding his long fingers through Jason's hair, Jason's expression gradually smoothed until he was sleeping serenely.

Closing his eyes, Dick whispered, "I love you" into Jason's ear before he finally drifted off himself, warm and secure in the arms of his beloved Humans.

* * *

**Notes:**

sclav - slave (Romani)  
ves'tacha - beloved, a term of great affection (Romani)

(I got these off random websites so feel free to correct me if you're some sort of language expert, because I'm definitely not!)

Thanks to everyone who read and liked/reviewed my fic! I must admit I was rather wary of posting this, given its rushed nature as an exchange fic, as well as its being a somewhat controversial rendition of the trope. I wanted to write it in a hyper-realistic fashion, with regard to both religious beliefs and rapey demons, but in such a way that no judgment was attached to any character as a result of his/her beliefs or affiliations. No character is inherently good or evil, and all sometimes act in ways that are morally ambiguous. Or if they haven't yet, then they will in the sequel...which I plan to write at some point!


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